


Are we not pleased, ser?

by eternalshiva



Series: Dragon Age Inquisition: Cullen x Fernweh Trevelyan [23]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Tumblr Prompt, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, dominant cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalshiva/pseuds/eternalshiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He heard her voice, more like a squeal, the excitement of it filling the space that filtered in through his windows. Cullen peeked outside, paperwork still in hand when he noticed her figure running through the yard and leap up into someone’s arms, wrapping herself around them.</p><p>Cullen’s brow raised upwards, a bit surprised. She wasn’t one to be so openly affectionate. He leaned closer trying to catch a glimpse of the person. A Templar, by the looks of it and- he blinked. Fernweh kissed the man, on the lips of all things, and hugged them tightly. </p><p>Cullen pressed his lips together, the papers crunching in his grip but he didn’t notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are we not pleased, ser?

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Good night! Can I ask you to do a little of your magic? I don’t know if maybe is a little out of character but… Fernweh x Cullen, someone from her past (lover or someone she truly look up to) comes to Skyhold and she’s a little too happy for Cullen’s taste and he can’t help but to feel a little jealous? Maybe from his POV? I hope you like the idea and write something. Thank you!!
> 
> Anonymous sort of asked: Also, there has been an anon, after several and many conversations that wanted a dom!cullen with a blow job only, I’m using this to fill it.

He heard her voice, more like a squeal, the excitement of it filling the space that filtered in through his windows. Cullen peeked outside, paperwork still in hand when he noticed her figure running through the yard and leap up into someone’s arms, wrapping herself around them.

Cullen’s brow raised upwards, a bit surprised. She wasn’t one to be so openly affectionate. He leaned closer trying to catch a glimpse of the person. A Templar, by the looks of it and- he blinked. Fernweh  _kissed_  the man, on the lips of all things, and hugged them tightly. 

Cullen pressed his lips together, the papers crunching in his grip but he didn’t notice. She was still clinging to the Templar as they walked back towards the Skyhold entrance. The commander cleared his throat, and he tried to pry his attention away from his lover and onto the bridge, there were more people coming behind them. 

It wasn’t working, his gaze would consistently go back to the two, walking arm around waist and he felt the need to bite his tongue and swallow the words he wanted to say. He rubbed his chin, nails scrapping through the rough stubble and he sighed, pushing down the glimpse of jealousy he felt rise through his chest. 

He hears her laughing, the musical sound of it usually makes him smile but this time it makes him clench his jaw. He sits down again, ignoring her voice and tries to focus on his work and the requests from Knight-Captain Rylen. 

It couldn’t have been more than an hour that passed, Cullen hears the familiar steps of the Inquisitor climb up the steps to his quarters and he’s still stewing on the image of her lips against another’s that weren’t his own. 

“Cullen!” Fernweh stepped into her office and his gaze met hers, her cheeks tinted with a pink he didn’t like - he frowned and went back to his paperwork. 

“What?” he quipped dryly, Fernweh stopped moving, crossing her arms. 

“What’s the matter.” It wasn’t a question, more like stating the _obvious_. He shifted his weight in his chair, unwilling to look up to see her expression, he knew just what it looked like and right now he wouldn’t think it was cute, it would only infuriate him. 

“Nothing,” he shrugs, anger filling his belly as jealousy inches it’s way up through his spine and makes his tongue slick. All he can see is her lips against the others, he clears his throat. 

“It’s not  _nothing_ , it’s something.” Fernweh steps closer, brows knit together, she could sense his anger and Cullen was rarely angry with her, mostly irritated, but never  _angry_ like this. 

He ignores her, and she plants her feet apart, ready to pry even further and he doesn’t want to argue. 

“Who was the envoy?” So much for not wanting to argue, he just wants to get up, grab her mouth with his hand and kiss the offending memory away. 

“Survivors that were found at Haven,” she says slowly, her eyes never leaving his form as he continues to write, the quill scratching across the paper irritably. She taps her foot, her mouth burning with questions. 

“And the man you… greeted?” He casually looks up, his amber eyes boring into her like an accusation. Fernweh blinks. 

Oh.

 _OH_. 

She throws her hands up in the air and let out a bark of laughter that startles Cullen. 

“I’m not sure what is so funny Fernweh, but you will  _humour_ me and answer my question.” He practically snarls at her, his quill forgotten. She tries to quell her laughter, his tone makes her a little nervous - he’s very angry. 

“That’s Thomas,” she’s wiping at her eyes, snorting with laughter. “My brother, Thomas Trevelyan. He’s a Templar at the Ostwick Circle and I was with him when the conclave exploded.” She’s laughing again, Cullen’s expression dropping to one of complete embarrassment. 

“He had been called away after the first few days there, I didn’t think he had survived.” She’s laughing harder, her hands folded over her stomach while Cullen buries his face in his hands, leaning against his elbows and groans. "Are you upset about the kiss? I'm sorry, that's how we greet each other in my home."

“Maker’s breath, it's not - well maybe, but...” he sighs. “I’m sorry Fernweh, I-” He peeks out from between his fingers and she’s making her way over to him, smiling. 

“I accept your apology, it probably looked really awful from your end.” She reaches out, passing her fingers through his curls and grins at him when he flushes. He pulls her into his arms, seating her on his lap. 

“I’m truly sorry, I got a bit jealous.” 

“A bit?” She’s smirking and he sighs, leaning in for a small kiss. She accepts, and nuzzles his nose. 

“Alright, more like a lot.” He admits, defeated. 

“Let me make it up to you,” she whispers, sliding off his lap and on to her knees, under his desk. She’s already undoing his trousers before he even reacts. 

“Make it up to me?” He’s confused, he was in the wrong here, not her. 

“I should have told you he was coming, but I was too excited when I received the message from Lelianna’s raven.” 

He’s pushing her hands away, shaking his head. “You want to do this now? In my office? It’s the middle of the day, Fernweh.” He admonishes, but the inquisitor only laughs, her fingers still working the laces of his trousers. 

“And there’s a patrol outside your door, my brother will want to meet with you and I think I heard Rylen wanting to find out about the report he sent you.” She nods, biting her lower lip as the laces fall away, she can see the outline of his length, already hardening. “Plus, it looks like you’re not entirely  _opposed_  to my idea, Commander.” Her fingers touch him, lightly and he closes his eyes. 

“So we have very little time,” he concludes. She nods. 

“And you have to tell me what you want,” she’s focused on him, her fingers sliding up his open trousers and she hooks them into the edges and yanks down. He lifts up his arse high enough to give her the wiggle room she needs to take them, and his smalls, down to the floor. They pool around his ankles and her hand wraps around him, he shivers - her touch is cold. 

“Are you sure, I’m still kind of  _upset_.” He jests, her eyes almost twinkle with the possibilities he’s offering her. 

“You are? Well, we can’t have  _that_.” She’s smirking, the game accepted between them. “Oh, ser Cullen, please punish your  _unfaithful_  Inquisitor.” She begs, lets go of his length and places her hands on his exposed thighs, scrapping the nails along the muscle, making him shiver openly as the skin pebbles under the assault and red marks follows her hard touch, they glide back up to his hips.  

His cock twitches. 

He grabs her by the hair, fist full of her short locks and she grins at him, licking her lips with anticipation, his jaw flexed with thought as she waited for his order. 

“Take me in your mouth,” he whispers, his lips curling back with a groan that tears from between his teeth when her fingers dig into his hips, the nails embedding themselves leaving half moons there. She takes him, mouth wide and tongue hot against his shaft, eagerly - she sucks. Her tongue swirls around the crown, under the edge and flicks against the tight bundle of skin in the peak that stretches. 

He sighs at the sensation, fingers pulling on her hair, guiding her a bit more where he wants to be licked. “Take me in further,” he commands, she obliges, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. Her tongue licks the shaft, her fingers wrapping around the part she can’t quite take into her mouth. 

He moans, she pulls her head back up and down, she sucks on his head making him hiss. “Again,” he murmurs the words, his gaze fixated on her movements, she looks up quickly, grinning, her tongue flicks at his slit and his hips twitch before she takes him in again, moaning against him. 

He thrusts slightly, holding her head steady. Her fingers rub him, up and down as her mouth works him. She follows the large vein - he’s hard, shivering under her touch. She nips him with her teeth, his head rolls back and he grips her hair again, pulling her down further and her name tumbles from his lips like liquid gold. 

He can feel the tight coil in the base of his cock, his hips thrusting slightly and he’s lost in the sensation of her mouth. His balls are tightening, his toes curling in his boots when she sucks again all the way to his tip, her cheeks sinking with the force of it. 

“Enough!” he grunts out, pulling her mouth away, he’s panting and trying to keep himself under control. He’s looking down at her, her lips are pink and swollen from her activity, she’s smiling at him. 

“Are we not pleased, ser?” she purrs at him, he can see her rolling her hips, using the pressure from her own trousers to rub against her sex. 

“No,” he tells her, she pouts. “Use your hands,” he leans back, watching her, “and do not touch yourself.” Fernweh nods, her hips no longer moving. She grabs him gently, both hands working is length, her thumb pressing on his slit, pushing out drops of precum. 

His head rolls back against the seat, closing his eyes and he moans as she strokes him, long slow sensual ones that make him arch his back. “Like that, yes.” he praises her and she blows a warm breath on him, making him twitch. 

Fernweh licks her lips, his head is oozing as she pulls up her hand, his foreskin enveloping him. She wants to taste him again but she has to listen to him, only if he says she can. She looks up, her half lidded gaze heavy with lust when she watches his face, brows knit together in concentration, his hips thrust into her hands, small shallow ones that only take a bit of the edge off. 

“Again, in your mouth-” he orders and she eagerly complies, he lets out a moan, deep from within his chest, it rumbles and Fernweh resists rolling her hips, her sex throbbing with excitement. 

“Don’t…” he gasps when she takes her teeth and scrapes the length, sucking the skin down to his balls and takes one in her mouth and pulls back until it slips out of her mouth. “Maker,” he grunts, hips twitching. “Don’t stop.” He can feel his climax climbing, her fingers pumping him slowly and she takes his head into her mouth again.  

“Sir,” Rylen opens the door, Cullen sits up straight, pulling his shirt down. Fernweh stills. 

“Rylen!” Cullen nerly shouts, surprised to see him and half remembering they were supposed to meet. He’s trying to gather his thoughts, scooting closer to Fernweh to hide her. She only grabs his hips under his shirt and takes him deeper into her mouth. 

He lets out a puff of breath, trying to hide his hiss. She flicks her tongue against his slit, lapping up the beads of liquid still dripping out. She knows he’s close. 

“Maker’s breath, I’ll get you t-the r-report in a bit, now,” he closes his eyes, cursing quietly when he feels her swallowing, “This i-is not a good time.” He snarls at his second, who blinks at him. 

“Everything alright sir? You seem flushed.” Rylen threatens to approach, Cullen shakes his head, waving him away. 

“I’m f-”  

Fernweh twirls her tongue mercilessly, Cullen’s careful expression breaks for a second, he can feel his eye twitching as the first signals of his climax break through. His arse clenches, Fernweh’s head moves faster, bopping up and down.

“Get… Maker, get  _out_.” He nearly whimpers, Rylen turns on his heels and quickly leaves, unsure of what was happening with his Commander. 

Cullen sits back quickly, his hands grabbing Fernweh’s hair and he thrusts, fucking her mouth while she takes it, he’s hitting the back of her throat in his hurry. He grunts, his cock twitching and pulsing as he finally releases himself into her mouth. Her name escapes his lips and she’s licking him clean, letting go of him finally when he stops moving and releases her hair. 

She’s laughing. 

“That was close.” She comments, Cullen groans, his face red. 

“This is going to be hard to explain,” he reaches down, helping his lover to her feet and she sits on his lap, kissing him. “Why did you keep going?” 

“You said not to stop, and when we play, I listen well.” she grins at him, chuckling. Cullen shakes his head, trying to get his breath under control. 

“My turn?” she asks, looking up at his ceiling, where his bed awaits. he smirks. 

“Your turn.” 


End file.
